To the City of Woe
by Apocalypto Magnos
Summary: The Dark Millenium has long been a place of intolerance, ignorance, and heresy. Now a single Eldar must face the sins of her world, or risk condemning all of reality to the Fiery Abyss.
1. The Gates

To the City of Woe

Intro

The Gates

Autarch Kayleth was angry.

The Eldar did not feel emotions as the mon-keigh did. When they felt happiness, the stars became radiant. When they felt sadness, the sun hid its face, and even the earth beneath their feet wept. When they felt anger, the air and earth scorched from their touch.

It was with this anger that the Autarch killed the Space Marines, Blood Ravens, dogs, maggots, ignorant murderers. It was with this anger that she tore a Predator tank apart from the inside out.

She was angry...at herself.

Eldar did not have the blessed ignorance of humanity when it came to their souls. They knew exactly what happened to the souls of departed Eldar. They were not protected by a God-Being, they were not absorbed into the Warp, they were not judged and rewarded by their gods. No, their souls were devoured by She Who Hungers; a monster of their own creation. It was only the soul stones they wore that prevented this hideous fate. At the moment of death, it was these stones alone that stood between them and complete and utter destruction.

It was because of Kayleth that an entire Craftworld's soul stones had been shattered, vaporized, and destroyed. It was her sins, her blindness, her pig-headedness that had caused such an unspeakable event.

Yet she was told that there was redemption...impossible as it sounded, she had to investigate. The way the message had been delivered played more than a little part in her curiosity.

It was this message that led her to where she now stood, before two great, forbidding gates, and standing before a white, translucent figure. He wore robes covered in veins, and a crown grew out of his head, its roots outlining his face. A staff of unknown make was held in his hand.

"You came," the ghost said in surprise.

"Why so shocked?" the Eldar stated simply. "Your message piqued my curiosity."

The being opened his mouth to speak, but decided against whatever he was going to say, instead saying, "I shall not comment on that matter. What you are about to see shall accomplish such."

Despite the power that flowed through her armor, shuriken rifle, fingertips, and mind, the Eldar felt uneasy in this place. A sense of pure, unadulterated power emenated from every particle of air, every stone, and especially from the gates. Though she hid the emotion, the unease grew each time she gazed upon the blood red doors.

"Tell me, creature," the Eldar demanded in her characteristically haughty voice. "What is this chance of redemption for my kind that you dangled before me like a carrot?"

For several moments, the ghost did not answer. He merely gave Kayleth a piercing stare. Though nothing intruded upon her mind, she felt as though the being was looking into her very soul. For her part, the Autarch did not flinch or fidget. She looked into the man's eyes with every ounce of intensity that she could muster.

"Gaze upon these gates," he said at last, gesturing behind them and moving out of the way. "For through them lies one path. Through these gates do many tortured souls walk the path of damnation. However, should you walk it, I pray you may find the way to redemption and salvation."

Giving the ghost a last withering glance, the Autarch obliged and stepped forward.

As she came closer, whispers began hovering through the air, just on the edge of hearing, the edge of sight, and the edge of her psychic senses. Their voices were indistinct, but seemed to speak syllables of High Gothic, and seemed to come from the door.

The red metal was cursed, that much was obvious, but not by the Ruinous Powers. Yet what other evil power was there but Chaos? What other force of corruption existed?

Turning from the doors, partially to face the ghost, partially (though she would never admit it) to look away from that unsettling _power_, Kayleth spoke.

"Creature," she demanded, her tone, if anything, even more condescending than before. "Why have you come to me? Are there no other Eldar but me that you could have chosen for this?"

"Speak not such things," the spirit commanded. "It was not I that chose you."

"Then who?" Kayleth continued, somewhat miffed by his tone.

"A spirit within the nether realm called out," the ghost said, pointing to the Gates with his staff. "I heeded that call, and prayed that I would be commanded, and lo, he spoke to me of one who still breathed, one for whom guidance was needed in this world of woe, this place where so many souls are damned forever to eternal torment beyond imagining."

"Very well," Kayleth said, satisfied, but also wondering at his cryptic answer, which only served to increase her morbid curiosity. Just what lay beyond those doors?

"Open them," she demanded, referring to the gates.

Wordlessly, the spirit strode to the doors, but paused before them to turn back towards the Autarch.

"Incidentally, you may know me as Vergil."

"I did not ask for your name," the Eldar sniffed indignantly.

"I know," the ghost said softly. His gaze became saddened; not on his own account, but for the Eldar. For a brief moment, she worried...

...but only for a brief moment.

Virgil did nothing but calmly lift his staff, and the gates began to open with a cacophonous clanging and turning of gears.

For a moment, Kayleth saw only inky darkness within the gates...then she saw fire. But before she could make out any more details, a torturous wind erupted. It didn't come from the gate, it was going _into_ the gate. Not only that, but it was picking up in intensity.

Before long, the Autarch's feet were picked up off of the ground by the gusting winds as she was sucked into the flaming gates. For a desperate moment, she held to the edge of the gates, her expression wide with shock and fear. But the winds were too strong, and her grip too tenuous. The hands slipped from the door, and she fell into the abyss.

The doors slammed shut and disappeared, leaving only an empty cliff. Strangely, not even Virgil remained...

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hey ho, readers!_

_Not too much to say about this, except that it was inspired by, believe it or not, a My Little Pony/Dante's Inferno story. When I saw it, my first thought was, predictably, "WTF! This I just gotta see!"_

_Surprisingly, it's not too bad of a story. And, me being the connesuir of wierd stories that I am, I thought that, hey, if you can do it with MLP, why not 40k?_

_Don't worry, the actual chapters will be much longer than this._

_As always, reads and reviews are welcome._


	2. Tortured Cliffs

To the City of Woe

Chapter 1

Tortured Cliffs

The first thing to reach Kayleth's ears was screaming...ruinous, mournful, hopeless screaming, the cries of the Damned.

The Autarch stood, and a ghastly scene greeted her eyes.

The skies rained what looked like goblets of fire. But when the Eldar's keen eyes looked closer, she realized with horror that the "goblets" were people. Screaming bodies descended from dark, forbidding clouds, their entire forms ablaze. Their baleful screams overrode all else that she heard. So large was the blanket of bodies falling from the sky, the very landscape was lit by the woeful flames, as no other source of light appeared visible in the air.

Things looked no better from ground level. Rocky, yet organic, heads protruded from the cliffs around her. A torrent of bodies so constant as to appear as water poured from their mouths and into the murky abyss below. The faces possessed glowing eyes and expressions of sadness and regret, yet also of justice. It was as though they did this not of their own choice, wanting anything but this, yet also knowing that such a task was required.

"Into the blind world we have now descended," an echo said from Kayleth's right. "Cast all fear and cowardice aside, for we have entered the Inferno."

Until the landscape met her eyes, the Autarch had every intention of demanding why she had not been warned of the Gate's nature. Yet now, only shock was evident in her eyes, her haughty demeanor far from present.

"What is this place?" she asked in a small voice.

Vergil looked to her gravely, and the same sadness from before appeared again on his face, but only for a moment. With a deep breath, he answered.

"We've come to the cliffs above the River Acheron," he said in an almost theatric voice. He gestured to the worn, rocky path upon which they both stood. "Wretched souls walk this tortured path to board Charon's vessel."

The Autarch looked to him. Her eyes full of fear, not only of this place, but of the feeling of pure, utter void that came with it. Something was missing from her mind. She did not know what it was, or that it had ever been there, but its absence was terrifying. Never before had she felt such...isolation. She said nothing, but the morbid curiosity on her features spoke volumes.

"All souls that die, from every nation, collect here as one," He continued. "Charon's rough crossing awaits those that did not fear the Lord."

"T-the Lord?" Kayleth asked meekly, confusion evident in her voice.

Vergil pursed his lips, looking away. For a moment, she could swear that a wave of pity washed over him.

Then she realized something. _Eldar souls could not go here when they die!_

"You are naïve to think that your kind are immune," the spirit admonished, though he did not look at her. "For are your souls not living till the moment they pass the corrupted lips of He Who Hungers?"

That was indeed a good question...and a terrifying one. Could it be true? Could those souls who are devoured by Slaanesh have this place as their ultimate destination?

"Come," Vergil said, beginning to walk along the path. "We mustn't waste time. Charon has a schedule to meet, and it does not change for the whims of mortals."

Kayleth hurried to his side. Though she denied it within herself, she feared what would happen if the ghost left her.

"Who is Charon?" she asked, a measure of her earlier attitude returning. It faded once again as they passed a score of bodies. They were burned, charred, and impaled into the side of the cliff, obviously fatal wounds. Yet they still twitched weakly, and one looked into her eyes with a pleading expression, unable to speak.

"He is the ferryman of this foul river," Vergil said, keeping his gaze forward. "He is a gruff spirit, with not an ounce of care within his heart. His is the duty of carrying the Damned to the shores of Hell to be judged."

Kayleth heard him, but her eyes still watched the ones impaled on the sides of the cursed path. Unwittingly, she began to slow her pace. Her guide noticed and turned to her. His hand lay on her shoulder.

"You cannot aid these souls," he informed her softly. "They are beyond comfort, beyond saving. Their due time has come."

For a moment, the Autarch said nothing. She did not merely see the pain felt by the shades, she _felt_ it. Impossible misery, unable to be ignored, never relenting, seared through every vein, every muscle, every nerve of their spirits. Kayleth was surprised by her own pity for the shades.

"Even the mon-keigh do not deserve this fate," she whispered, knowing from the pain ridden minds of the dead that this fate would never end, save for when their due time came to board Charon.

Suddenly, she became aware of the hand on her shoulder. In a flash of indignation, she shook it off and glared daggers at Vergil. For his part, the ghost gave only a saddened gaze into her eyes. So piercing was his stare that the Eldar, a veteran of centuries of combat, fighting enemies beyond imagination, protecting the Craftworld since her birth, could not withstand it...she looked away.

"Come," Vergil beckoned to her. "Charon awaits."

* * *

><p>The trek was a painful one. No matter how she tried, the screams of condemned souls could not be blocked out, their pain could not be ignored, and the <em>emptiness<em> like naught else settled upon her mind for every moment of the hike.

Now they came to a platform, high up on the rocky cliffs of the path. The view it gave was dismal indeed. The great river Acheron stretched out before the duo. A gray mist hovered above it, while the mournful cries of those within it came close to overwhelming Kayleth. On the far left of the platform was a great bell. Its rusted surface was decorated with impaled, squirming, crying souls and unholy prayers written in an ancient language, one known to Kayleth only as High Gothic.

Then, as though cued by their entrance, the unholy structure shifted. A single note, flat and foreboding, resounded through the dark, sounding like the fell toll of a funeral bell. Then a gravelly, deep, intimidating voice spoke.

"_Through me, the way to the City of Woe."_

Kayleth looked left and right, searching for the source, but it appeared to come from everywhere.

"_Through me, the way to everlasting pain."_

Slowly, the Eldar turned around, facing the edge of the dark castle turret behind her and looked down.

"_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."_

"Gods above..."

Something, neither man nor machine, neither organic nor inorganic, a _creature_, sat upon the surface of the shadowy river. He had the body of a wooden boat, but with patterns like sinew and muscle all across it. Rickety piers extended from the shore and to his side, where multitudes of sobbing, weeping, crying souls boarded him. At his bow was a head shaped like a human's, but wrinkled and aged. Instead of eyes, tongues of fire danced in his eye sockets.

"There lies Charon," Vergil said. "He is the sole ferry of this forsaken river. Only by him can we cross the Acheron."

Had the situation been different, Kayleth would have demanded how they were to board that _thing_, and why she should trust a daemon to carry her across this accursed river. However, that attitude had all but disappeared when she saw the Inferno. This was no place for condescension and demands.

Vergil struck the ground with his staff, and the ground underneath rumbled. The Autarch kept her feet perfectly, not losing a beat as the slab of cobblestone lifted and began to drift downward to Charon. The boatman paid no mind to them, he gazed forward with baleful eyes until they came level to his face. Then he swiftly turned to face them.

"_You there!"_ he bellowed. _"Stand aside from those that are dead."_

Kayleth, her instincts kicking in, reached for her shuriken rifle, though she doubted such a mundane item would harm the daemon...particularly from a lone Eldar with no support.

Vergil, however, held his hand out to her, and she paused.

"She has the right of passage, Charon," Vergil stated blandly. "As do I."

"_Vergil,"_ Charon greeted with an unfriendly smile, as though he just now recognized the spirit before him. _"You know my rules. I grant but a single passage."_

"It is not my will that you carry us," the spirit stated more firmly. "You know that."

The daemon scowled down at them. He appeared to be conflicted within himself, but then relented. _"Very well, I shall carry you both."_

"_Welcome aboard," _Charon announced in a mock-friendly voice. _"By all means, make yourselves comfortable."_

Once they were aboard, the living vessel jerked, earning an increase of keening from the unseen prisoners below the main deck.

"_And now we depart!"_ Charon announced loudly. _"Now I ferry you into the fire, the cold, the eternal everlasting darkness!"_

Without delay, the ship sped forward, though Kayleth could only reference its movement to the shrinking cliffs behind it. Without a second thought, Charon dove into the mists of Acheron. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the winds howled around the ship, yet did not seem to effect it. Even Kayleth felt not a single drop of rain nor the slightest wind.

"_Mortal,"_ Charon boomed, though his head remained pointed forward. _"The questions within your mind patter ceaselessly. Speak them before their rattling angers me."_

Kayleth was not surprised in the least that he could read minds, at least to some extent. Her haughty demeanor was all but gone by now. She wished that this place would numb her, but the horror seemed to remain fresh, no matter how long she felt it.

"I have seen many souls enter this..._Inferno_," she commented. "There are so many. What could so many have done to deserve this fate?"

"_To tell would be insult,"_ Charon answered, his demeanor unsettlingly similar to what Kayleth's had been mere hours ago. _"The sins of mortals are beyond listing."_

"He speaks the truth," Vergil interjected. "Yet he has forgotten a detail. If not for the Lord, all would be resigned to this fate, for _all_ have committed sins worthy of Hell."

"All mortals!" the Autarch exclaimed angrily. "Even those who die as infants? Those who do not one erronous act? What sins are those that deserve this!"

Vergil gave her a piercing stare. "I shall not say, for soon you shall see that which makes my words incredible."

"And if there are indeed souls from 'every nation' here, then where are the Eldar that so _surely_ deserve this?" she continued in a sarcastic voice, heedless of Vergil.

Again with Vergil's piercing stare. "If it is Eldar you wish to see...Charon, is there a chance-?"

"_A detour?"_ the daemon boat interrupted, sounding disturbingly delighted. _"I thought you'd never ask!"_

The boat bumped slightly, evidently changing course, though the scenery remained unchanged. For several minutes, nothing happened. Both Charon and Vergil remained still and quiet. Then the ghost pointed out into the Acheron.

"There," he said. "Do you see that isle, battered as a ship in the midst of a maelstrom?"

Kayleth did indeed see it, but she did not answer. The Eldar was too busy attempting (in vain) to keep some semblance of her haughty, condescending demeanor. She did not just see the small island with a barely five pace radius, she saw the figure atop it. He wore great, red armor decorated with symbols. His skin was cracked and scarred, and he wore an elaborate headdress. Kayleth knew exactly who it was.

On that small island, pierced through every joint, eyes and mouth ratcheted open, his back nailed to a post to keep him upright, staring with vacant horror into the depths of the Acheron, was the god of War and Murder.

Khaine.

"Impossible," was Kayleth's only comment. Her eyes were opened wide, and fear for her own life seared through her veins for the first time since her arrival in Hell. "He is not dead!"

"_Why else would he not be aboard me?"_ Charon scoffed. _"He lies there, half-dead, and watches his fate unfold over and over again. Until his due time, he shall see his fate in the circle of Violence. For though it is not yet his time...far too late is it to repent."_

"Indeed," affirmed Vergil sadly. "No one, not even the gods, are above the final reproach of Hell."

Kayleth said nothing.

Vergil looked to her, but her expression was unreadable. She stared forward into the murky air above Acheron. The ghost was no psychic. He did not know what her thoughts were, though he had a good idea.

Deciding not to disturb her, he looked forward, almost mimicking her posture.

The Eldar remained silent for the rest of the voyage. Charon, for his part, grumbled much of the way about her ambient mind prattling on endlessly.

* * *

><p>"<em>Damned souls, prepare to be judged to the Circles of Hell!"<em>

Charon's voice echoed through the shores of Acheron as the multitude of souls exited from below deck. Kayleth and Vergil had long departed into the Fell Castle that stood on the beach.

"Now past the Acheron, we have come to Limbo, the first Circle of Hell," Vergil announced.

Ironically, Limbo looked a sight better than the Acheron's cliffs.

Gusting winds, torrential rain, booming thunder, and flashing lighting buffetted the landscape, but it was absolutely more bearable than the wretched cliffs at Hell's foul gates. Also missing was the ambient pain and woeful screams of the Damned, though the suppressing _emptiness_ remained.

"Here resides the virtuous pagans of every nation…and the fallen King Minos, judge of Hell."

As if on cue, a single word echoed past the walls. The voice that carried it was dark, angry, and callous. The word was simple, and yet spoken with a quality that disturbed Kayleth to her core.

"_Anger!"_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hey ho, readers!_

_As you may have noticed, this story is somewhat...lacking in terms of the care I put into Controller. Please remember that this story is just a pet project, an experiment, if you will. I'm as interested (and unsure) where it will lead as you are._

_Anyway, Reads and Reviews are welcome._

_P.S.- I decide__d to make a small edit, removing the Space Marine. Sorry everybody, but it just wouldn't have worked with him in the story._


	3. Virtuous Pagans

To the City of Woe

Chapter 2

Virtuous Pagans

The Eldar shivered from the fearsome quality of the word and the unmistakable authority behind it.

"_Gluttony!"_

As the unlikely duo tread through the halls of the castle, passing flows of magma that poured from the rock and statues of pained, tortured bodies, the voice of the apparent judge of Hell reached them as he shouted out the judgments of damned shades, sentencing them to the Circles of Hell.

"_Fraud!"_

Other than the distant yelling of Minos, the place seemed deadly silent. Kayleth looked around suspiciously, and then stopped, causing Vergil to halt and gaze at her, his expression unreadable as ever.

"Where are all the 'virtuous pagans'?"

The ghost gave a wry smile, and gestured in the direction of a chortling lava flow.

"We are quite a way from palace of souls, where such shades reside," he explained. His veined face, as well as his voice, grew distant, almost wistful. "Though they are denied Paradise, they dwell distinguished from the manner of the rest for their good actions in life."

The Autarch looked to him curiously. "How often are souls kept here?"

At this, a flash of anger crossed his eyes, though his face remained cut from stone.

"Only the rarest souls have abided in this place in the last ten thousand years," he declared loudly. "For only the virtuous may dwell in this faux paradise."

Kayleth nodded, agreeing with that statement. Goodness was a rare commodity these days...But then she realized something.

"Is that where you live?"

The ghost leveled his gaze with her as Minos shouted the name of another Circle, but he said nothing. After a moment, he continued to walk, leaving a rather miffed Eldar to catch up to him.

"There is little time for questions at the moment," he said as the Eldar came alongside him. "Once we meet with Minos, you may ask what you must."

Kayleth turned her head to stare at the ghost. While his response was half-expected, given his behavior so far, Vergil seemed almost…ill at ease. Something the Eldar said stirred an unpleasant memory. She was curious as to what it was.

"_Lust!"_

The ghost and Autarch stopped at the entrance of a large, circular room. Stone fountains decorated with macabre depictions of shades - all with pained, horrified expressions - spat magma into channels positioned on the edges of the room, forming a sort of moat. At the room's center was a white marble statue of a kneeling woman, her face serene as she held a large cross in her lap. It seemed to radiate a light of its own, as well as a sense of peace that was entirely out of place here.

"_Violence!"_

As Kayleth looked at the statue's face, her thoughts turned to Khaine, impaled as he was on that island on the Acheron.

Eldar prided themselves over their control of their emotions. Where lesser races would be overcome by anger or grief, the Eldar survived and fought on. It was all that kept their race afloat after the unspeakable disaster of She Who Thirsts. Yet even with all of this self-control, Kayleth felt her blood grow cold and her hands and legs began to shake. The fear that she had so violently attempted to repress came back with a vengeance.

The Eldar had never seen the god of War and Murder as a being to be trusted, given his typical behavior. Nonetheless, he was a source of the Eldar's great strength, a reservoir of fortitude that kept them going when no other hope remained. Khaine was even the patron god of the Eldar's armies, the one who led them into battle; whether in spirit or in the form of an Avatar. He was power incarnate. Even when only an infinitesimally small part of him came to life, it took the very strongest forces – be they Orkish, human, or Chaos in nature – to subdue him.

To think that he, a god who relished conflict, had been overcome so easily…

"_Heresy!"_

_No one, not even the gods, are above the final reproach of Hell._

Her body began to tremble even more as a haunting cold settled over her. The color in her face began to drain.

_No!_ She would not be overcome by it!

With a monumental heave of her mind, the fear began to retreat, but not easily. It scrabbled and grabbed and tried its hardest to hold on as it inevitably gave ground. Eventually, it reached the point where it could be pushed no further. Try as she might, it could not be repressed completely.

Kayleth took a deep, shuddering breath before looking to Vergil, knowing that he had likely seen her sudden changes in demeanor. But if the ghost noticed, he did not show it. He merely stared towards the center of the room, still as the statue he was looking at.

Curious and (though she would never admit it out loud) eager to push her thoughts of Khaine further back into the recesses of her mind, the Autarch cautiously stepped into the room, half expecting some sort of daemon to jump out at her. Clutching her Shuriken rifle, she stepped lightly until she was halfway to the statue, eying her surroundings warily.

Satisfied that she was not going to be attacked, Kayleth lowered her rifle and stepped up to the statue.

"What is it?" she asked, beginning to turn and face Vergil for an answer. "This is not a natural statue for a place like this."

The Autarch started, seeing Vergil right next to her. How did he sneak up on her like that? She should have been able to sense something like that!

"It is a marker," he answered, completely unperturbed. Kayleth shook off her surprise, noting with displeasure that it had shown externally in the first place. Once she recovered, she gave Vergil a curious look.

He had become quiet and grave, even more so than when she first saw him, from the moment they entered Limbo. It was a small comfort that she was not the only one affected.

"A marker for what?" she returned. Despite her unease, she felt a slight bit of exasperation from Vergil's decidedly unhelpful answer.

"It is the marker of a pilgrimmage long departed from this time," Vergil continued, shaking his head sadly.

Before the Eldar could inquire further, Vergil drew himself up, appearing stony once more, and raised a hand to point towards one of the decorated walls.

"We must continue through there to reach Minos," he explained before striding forward. Kayleth followed, curious as to how they were to go through a wall. Only when they got closer did she see that it was not like the wall around it. It was not engraved with tortured souls, but rather with a daemon with its bulging arms folded in front of it in a mockery of prayer.

At first glance, it looked almost like a bloodletter, a minor daemon of Khorne. However, the thing's lifeless eyes glowed with an evil that went far beyond that of a mere Warp Spawn.

When the two came closer, Kayleth noted with a start that the glow was becoming literal. The carving's malignant eyes shone a bright, angry red that increased in intensity as they approached. When they stood before it, the carving moved, showing itself to be no mere depiction of a daemon, but a daemon itself.

Though Vergil did not react, Kayleth snapped up her Shuriken rifle as the horned door-creature trained its baleful gaze upon them.

A glance to the side showed the ghost's continued calm, and that was the only thing that kept the Autarch from firing. She did not know the nature of this…_thing._ Its continued existence could very well be necessary for them to continue traveling.

The daemon turned slowly, scanning the two before it with blazing eyes. After a moment, it gave a slight nod to Vergil and returned to its original position, the glow in its eyes going out.

"_Treachery!"_

For a moment, nothing happened. But then the section of wall occupied by the creature began to shake in time with another shouted Circle from Minos. A layer of dust fell from it, revealing crevices at the border between it and the wall. Immediately, Kayleth realized what it was…

…it was a door.

The gnarled, flesh-like iron door lifted up and out of sight with the loud clang of gears, revealing a black hallway. After a meager few feet, the ambient light of magma was no more, leaving only inky darkness in its absence.

The Eldar were by no means afraid of the dark, but even so, the fear in Kayleth's mind gave a light stir. Despite her best efforts to contain it, she felt fear towards whatever might lay within that dark hall. Even so, she gathered her strength and prepared to enter, only to be stopped by Vergil's hand on her shoulder.

"_Greed!"_

"Wait," he commanded, pointing down the hall with his other hand. "A shade approaches, one with which you will wish to meet."

Kayleth bristled at his touch and shook the hand off, yet she found it impossible to summon the same fiery indignance she felt before when Vergil performed such an action. Wanting to avoid dwelling once again over her situation, Kayleth looked down the hallway and saw that it was not the same as before…

A bobbing dot of white had appeared, obviously still quite far from the doorway. Though the Autarch squinted and strained, she could not tell who or what it was at such a distance. Eventually, the dot grew to reveal the figure of a person, and not just any person. The figure was tall, lithe, and moved with grace despite its apparent haste to meet them. It was…an Eldar?

Kayleth swore she felt her heart stop, even as a pit began to form in her stomach and her blood turned to ice. An Eldar in Limbo could only mean one thing.

Eldar _did _come here when they died.

For all that she had seen, even the tortured form of…_him, _she still held the fervent hope that maybe, just maybe, Vergil had lied…or perhaps he had been mistaken…but the appearance of an Eldar here disproved both. The implications of that revelation, and the currently unanswerable questions that accompanied them, were _quite _unpleasant.

At last the translucent shade reached the doorway. Despite the long run it had just performed, it did not appear tired in the slightest.

Immediately, all of the Eldar's previous worries and thoughts were put aside. For the first time since she was a child, she gaped at the shade…no, the _man_ that stood before her. Though he wore no crown and had no staff, his face had painful-looking veins that crisscrossed it, just underneath the skin, and nearly all of his body was covered by a vein-covered robe. But even so, Kayleth recognized the Eldar that stood in the door of the dark hallway.

Slowly, she took a shaky, wobbly step, her entire body feeling numb. Then she took another…and another…all the while reaching out with a quivering hand. When she stood in front of him, she placed her hand on his cheek. Despite his translucent state, his face felt real. A pale hand gently closed on hers, and the back of Kayleth's mind noted that his hand was shaking as much as her own.

For a full minute they stood in that position, Vergil forgotten, as the Autarch struggled to form her words.

"It…I-it…can't be," she whispered at last. "Iraneus?"

The shade gave a quivering smile as his eyes glistened with a film of tears.

"Long did I fear you were forever lost," he intoned softly, his voice quivering. "Sister."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hey ho, readers!_

_Hmm...sure has been a while, hasn't it? Oh well, nevermind that! Point is, I'm back with a new chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed it!_

_So the dear Autarch's brother is in Limbo? Mhm, gotten real, shit has. On another note, I'm slowly but surely getting better at writing longer chapters. I'm hoping that I'll be able to cram some more into next chapter (and that my writing has gotten better too)._

_As always, Reads and Reviews are welcome._


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